A Wisp of Transparent Mist
He closed his hand to make a fist,
as he stood silently behind bars,
a wisp of transparent mist
specked and sparked like stars,
defiant, and reliant,
as his freedom was just a dream,
and her life ended in a scream,
glancing upward he saw,
her ghostly image reaching out to claw,
the cloudy air,
her death was his fear,
his actions brought him here,
and her there,
forever they’ll stay,
he will remain in prison for killing the one he loved,
crime of passion, without compassion,
as he prays to God above,
her ghost flying,
and he could hear the angels crying,
as his spirit was trailing down,
Hell-bound,
underground,
where it would be found.
Copyright © Frank F. Atanacio | Year Posted 2009
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